


Chaos

by missduncan



Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missduncan/pseuds/missduncan
Summary: It's early on a Saturday morning at Boyd's. He isn't a happy man.Pure fluff.Birthday present for Joodiff
Relationships: Peter Boyd/Grace Foley
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Chaos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Joodiff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joodiff/gifts).



> Thank you to Got Tea for the beta

Maybe it’s the birds outside the open window that wake him up. Maybe it’s the heat or maybe a combination of both. Peter Boyd doesn’t care. The result is the same; it’s Saturday morning and he can’t sleep. After tossing and turning around in bed for quite a long time, he's finally ready to give in. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t fall asleep again. 

For a moment he lies staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft breathing beside him. Grace seems to still be asleep, curled into a ball, her forehead lightly touching the skin on his arm. Her slender form is covered only by the thin blanket they use at the moment instead of the quilt. It's too tempting for him not to reach out, rest a hand on her hip, and slowly trace his fingers in circles there. But neither this, the heat, or the damn birds wakes her up, though. Better just let her have her beauty sleep then. Leaning in he places a soft kiss on her forehead, before rolling onto his back. 

Sighing deeply, he rubs a hand over his face. Not even a hint of a breeze is coming through the open window, the heat is increasing, and he already feels sticky with sweat, even though he's only wearing his shorts. Carefully pushing himself up into a sitting position, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, taking care not to disturb her slumber. With sleep eluding him, there's absolutely no reason to stay in bed any longer. Things might be just a bit cooler down the kitchen, though, and breakfast and a cup of strong tea would probably do him good, too. 

Finding his slippers, he gets to his feet, silently heading towards the door. Before he gets that far, though, Grace’s voice, muffled and sleepy, sounds from the bed. "Breakfast in bed?" 

“In your dreams,” he grunts. "Be down in about 15 minutes and you can have your breakfast there...” 

He starts to walk out of the room, hesitating in the door, asking over his shoulder. "Black or white tea?" 

"But last weekend... " she tries, lifting her tousled head. 

"Last weekend was at your house," he replies teasingly. "Today it's my bed, my rules. No crumbs in bed." 

Turning on the heel, he walks out, chuckling softly, then adding in loud voice on the way down the stairs, "If you're in for breakfast you'll show up in the kitchen.”

Soon the kettle is on and the toaster loaded with bread. 

Unlocking and opening the garden door, Boyd leans into the door frame. He's still sleepy after the restless night, his mind foggy and his body heavy. Sleeping an hour or two longer would really have made a huge difference. Sadly though, that's not going to happen but at least down here, a gentle breeze is coming from the shadow under the big tree in the garden. The neighbour's fat cat is lying in a strip of sun on the terrace, completely ignoring him. Ever since Luke’s dog died of old age, the damn cat apparently regards the garden as its territory. For a moment, Boyd thinks about chasing it away – but what’s the point, he reflects. It’s a lost battle, he’s hardly ever home and doesn’t use the garden anyway.

A sound from behind catches his attention. Lingering at the door from the hallway, Grace is standing, tousled, dressed only in one of his old t-shirts, and studying him with a sleepy smile. 

"Hello you,” he says, strolling towards her, wrapping his arms around her as he gets close, and giving her a hug. “Tea’s almost ready.” 

“Mm, lovely.” She smiles languidly up at him, trailing a hand through her hair, pushing a stray lock of it around the ear, looking up with an expectant glint in her eyes before she wraps her arms around his neck. "What about a morning kiss?" 

"Always," he mumbles, circling his arms tighter around her frame and pulling her even closer, before dipping down and gently pressing his lips to hers before trailing small kisses along her jaw and further down her throat. “Tea, or would you like to go back to bed?” 

“Mmm... that’s a hard one,” she replies, pausing slightly, angling her neck to provide him a better view. “I might though...” 

Pausing, she seems to consider her options, “prefer the tea now we’re down here...” 

“Of course, you would. Of course,” he mocks, releasing her with a snort, and leaving her to make their tea. 

“Sorry, Boyd,” she excuses, with a crooked smile, “It’s been a rough night." Yawning, she goes on. "I feel just as tired now as when I went to bed.” 

"I know the feeling," he agrees, slowly letting his breath seep out between his lips. Removing the teabag, he grips a mug, and turns towards her, handing it to her. “Here you are.” 

And then everything goes wrong. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices swift movement as a black shadow enters through the back door. Everything happens so fast. 

"What the fuck?" The shout is loud, a vain attempt to frighten the animal. But the cat doesn't give a damn. Turning his head, holding his focus on the uninvited guest, Boyd loses the part of his attention that’s focused on his own actions. 

He even doesn't really know what happens before it's too late; it's all such a fluke and simply happens too fast for his sleepy mind. One minute everything is fine, and then there’s complete chaos the next. 

Wiggling its head strangely, the cat seems to be struggling somehow, and suddenly, with an annoyed meow like an angry cry, the animal opens its mouth and a tiny bird flutters out and then continues to fly, disorientated, around the ceiling. 

Whether it’s the cat, or the bird hitting his hand, or he just forgets the mug is there, Boyd doesn't know, but the result is the same. One minute the mug is in his hand, filled with steaming morning tea, and then it’s gone the next, hitting the floor with a loud shattering sound as the hot liquid splatters all around him. 

The shocked cry that escapes Grace's lips as, startled, she steps back to avoid being splashed by the hot liquid, is immediately transformed into a small scream of pain as she missteps, losing her balance and hitting her right arm on the cabinet behind her as she struggles to regain her stability. 

Failing miserably, she finally bumps down onto the floor, rubbing her wrists. "What just happened, Boyd?" Utterly confused, her eyes sweep around the room, her gaze following the frightened little bird that is still flapping around. “Where did that come from?” 

“Are you alright, Grace?” One step and he’s beside her, bending down. With a look of concern painted all over his face, he gently takes hold on her arm, touches her wrist with two fingers, probing. 

“No, no, I’m good,” she stammers, slightly breathless as she waves her other hand placatingly in the air. "No worries." 

Withdrawing her hand, she leans back towards the cabinet. 

“Let me have a proper look, Grace.” Insisting sternly, Boyd kneels down beside her. "Ouch!" he yelps as his knee lands in the hot liquid. Reeling, he quickly ends up thumping down beside her on the floor, back resting up against the cabinet, muttering curses under his breath, nursing the burning skin. 

“My God, are you alright, Boyd!” Snickering slightly, she continues shaking her head. “Oh, you sweet silly man. Always so concern about my safety, that you forget every precaution about your own. Now, let me have a look at you... " 

Hand on his shin, she studies his knee, then, inclining her head, she places a soft kiss on the slightly red skin. "Not too bad but it might be a good idea to rinse it with some cold water. Luckily, you didn’t cut yourself. What a mess, Boyd," Grace states reproachfully, as her attention is drawn to the shards swimming in tea on the floor. "How did all this happen." Angling her head, she looks at him, arching an eyebrow in question. 

Suddenly smiling, she goes on. "Look," her hand reaches out, tenderly touching his forehead, "a feather." 

With two fingers, she removes it, then falls back beside him, sitting on the floor resting her head on his shoulder, giggling softly. “What a way to wake up.” 

“You can say that again, and we haven’t even had our tea,” he wholeheartedly agrees, sneaking an arm around her shoulder. "Look at that obnoxious monster there," he points at the cat seated very still on top the small table, "looking like a fucking sphinx, the bloody intruder." 

"Boyd, Boyd," she laughs, "it's the nature of a kitty. It's keeping an eye on its breakfast. It's sad but that's how real life is." 

At the same time a tiny chirping sounds from above the upper cabinet on the opposite wall. "That's a sparrow up there. Look," Indicating with her head, turning his awareness towards the little creature. 

"Just great," he grumbles, "simply great." Scratching his chin, he wonders, "How the fuck do I catch that thing?" 

"No problem," Grace explains, "I had a cat as a child. It often brought its toys home, sometimes dead but mostly alive. Once I found the head of a squirrel beside my bed but it wasn't unusual to find a living mouse or a bird – sometimes even a rabbit – hiding under the fridge in the morning. If we leave the door open, it’ll find its way out soon." 

"I'm beginning to see where your interest in corpses and mummies comes from, Grace. It's disgusting." He snorts. "I want both out of my kitchen. Now." Jumping up on his feet, Boyd makes a grab for the cat, but it gracefully dodges without visible effort or haste. Completely unfazed, it simply wanders to the other corner of the table, sits down, tail elegantly curled around its paws as continues it watch. 

Smirking, Grace too gets up and immediately walks to the cat. "Kitties aren't that easy to control, Boyd." Cupping the head, she gently strokes a finger over the fur. "Aww, how beautiful are you, little one. So beautiful." 

“Throw it out, will you.” 

“Hm?” She’s completely lost in her chat with the cat. 

“Please, Grace. I’m begging you here...” He gives her his best doggy-eyes look. “Just throw it out while I clean the bloody floor.” 

“Okay, okay.” Narrowing both eyes and tilting her head, she acknowledges his wish as she carefully picks up the cat in her arms, and, chitchatting quietly with it, she carries it out into the garden while softly caressing it. 

Returning inside again, she finds the table is laid with fresh steaming tea mugs and toast. The breakfast is ready and Boyd sitting waiting for her. “Oh, what a sight,” she sighs, settling on her chair. “Just what I need.” 

“Some morning, eh?” 

Both sipping deeply of the tea, their eyes connect over the rims of the mugs. 

"Quite a morning," she easily agrees, putting the tea down, and reaches for the toast. "Now what?" 

"Whatever you like... " He shrugs noncommittally, "I'm open for suggestions. We could go back to bed..." 

“In your dreams, Boyd. In your dreams.” Leaning back in the chair, she regards him, eyes sparkling with glee. 

“My God, you are incorrigible, Boyd. It’s way too hot by now to sleep, or whatever else you could possibly suggest using a bed for. It’s nearly noon already and we should have a shower, get dressed and drive somewhere. The beach, for instance, or the wood, or anywhere with just a tiny bit of air or shade.” 

“What about a cold shower?” He tries, smirking hopefully.

“Maybe you should have one for yourself,” she quickly retorts, getting up. “Let’s settle for a quick, tepid shower," she suggests. Then, with a stern face, she adds, "together if you like. Then we go somewhere for the day, hoping for a cooler night." 

Boyd sighs. He tried, he really did. “Your word, my dear, is my command.” 

END 

  



End file.
